The War
by deltalphavictor58
Summary: The view of the Human-Covanant War from the perspective of an ODST from his first exposure to combat to the end of the war. Warning: some language
1. Combat

Halo- The War- Chapter 1-Combat

**Disclaimer: Look, I make no profit from this, Halo belongs to Bungie and maybe Microsoft too. The quote belongs to Antony Swofford and is taken from his memoir **_**Jarhead**_** it's not word for word and I don't claim it as my own so please don't sue me, okay? Plus, the colony is made up by me.**

**A/N: This is my first fic so don't flame me, and review alright?**

_A story: a man carries a rifle for many years, and carries it to war. Afterwards, he turns the rifle in at the armory, and believes that he is done with the rifle. But no matter what he does with his hands: build a house; love a woman; change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle, and the power that it gave him._

_ - Corporal Antony Swofford, USMC STA Scout Sniper, ret._

_**BOOM!**_

That's all I heard. That one deafening sound was all I could hear, all I could _feel _at first. The biggest lingering question on my mind for the last year and a half had finally been answered. There had been many questions on my mind: whether grandpa would be fine after grandma died; whether Melissa was being faithful; whether Jeremy would be able to take care of mom; whether Sarah would ruin my hunting rifle. All were overshadowed by the one big question on my mind: _what's combat like?_

Now I finally knew, and it was indescribable. There were explosions everywhere, gunfire and plasma going off so fast it sounded like angry birds attempting to remove the titanium-c roofing off a trailer during a hailstorm. There were men screaming for their mothers, aliens yelling in unintelligible tongues, all mixed with the ringing in my ears that I got when my helmet's sound isolation system failed momentarily from some EMP caused by plasma. So all in all, combat was very loud, very chaotic and horrible… so horrible.

To think, 18 months earlier I experienced my first day of boot camp, and after that, after coming home a man, where I left a boy. But I really was a man only by word of law, so I decided to test myself in the most brutal test in the UNSC; I joined the ODST's.

On reflection, it made me a better man in the long run, but at the time, by week 2 1/2 of ODST selection, death seemed like it would be like a nice warm bed, which was also something I longed for.

But none of that mattered now; all that mattered was the fact that I was now, for the first time, in combat.

Immediately, my training; training I didn't think I'd absorbed so well; took over.

The DZ for my platoon was a flat field, in the tall grass of the outskirts of Lehris, second largest city on Wells VI, the closest in of the outer colonies. Wells VI was relatively untouched by the insurrection; a stable economy with profitable jobs and no overcrowding tended to mellow people's outlook on things. Not that the Covenant cared.

The Covenant had arrived in system a day and a half ago with 2 frigates and proceeded with a land invasion, apparently the enemy commander thought that his forces needed some target practice. Whoever he was, he underestimated Wells VI's importance; it was the virtual gateway to the inner colonies and had a decent population of 550 million colonists.

So the UNSC sent the cruisers _Calypso _and _Brandywine_, plus the destroyers _Plataea, Khe Sahn, _and _Salamis_. Normally it would have been less than ideal odds for us, but we had arrived in system while the enemy was on the other side of the planet, and thus caught the enemy with their proverbial pants down. The _Brandywine_ had been severely damaged but otherwise, the task force had destroyed the frigates easily.

So all that was left was to wipe out whatever Covenant were left on the ground, and Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment, 105th Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable) had the job of dropping in on the outskirts of the capital, and clearing the way for the infantry to land so we could all take back Lehris.

_Travel light first to fight, feet first into hell. _Yeah, right. That plan sounded decidedly better on the _Calypso_ where I had several meters of Titanium-A armor and several million kilometers between me and the enemy.

But now, I had more immediate concerns. I pulled my BR-55 rifle from my back and took aim on the first sentient being I ever killed. The unlucky grunt seemed to freeze as I put pressure on the trigger. The whole world seemed to stop. Then the trigger broke evenly just like just like during all those hours on the range, and 3 rounds of M634 9.5x40mm High Powered Semi-Armor-Piercing ammunition perforated the grunt's gray, mottled head, letting loose a spray of florescent blue blood.

_So, that's what it feels like to kill another sentient being_. Another question answered. Just then the rest of the company started to charge. One way or another, this world would not fall. Lehris would be retaken; at any cost.

I rose and joined the charge, and knew that I would never be the same. I also knew that this would be a long, hard, blood soaked war.


	2. Background

**Disclaimer: I DO ****NOT**** Make ANY profit from this! Halo belongs to Bungie. If some thing belongs to anyone else I will say so.**

Halo-The War-Chapter 2

Maybe it's time I give you some background on all this; my name is Sergeant First Class Basil Stoeger. I'm the first son of an Arabic mother and a British father. My parents decided shortly after I was born to move to a place where I would be able to grow up in a small town, yet still get some of the life experience that you can only get in a big city; so they settled in Sparsin, Colorado, USA, Earth. The town was built in 2213, starting out as a highway pit stop along UNHAR-108 (United Nations Highway Authority Route). But as the highway, which bisected the US and Canada from Nova Scotia to LA, California, got popular as a way to distribute goods, so did the city, by the time I was born on July 11, 2510, the city had grown to a population of five hundred thousand.

By the time the war started I was fourteen and struggling like all adolescents to find my purpose in life. When I first saw the victory on Harvest, I had already thought about joining the military for a while; with two siblings and constantly busy parents, who could blame me? I already knew how to shoot and enjoyed hunting, plus I was pretty athletic, being on the cross country team and all. The seemingly glorious victory was what pushed me over the edge. In retrospect, the "victory" should have seemed suspicious, I mean come on, a new alien enemy that we knew nothing about; never mind how to fight them…and we just had some glorious victory? But what can I say; those guys in ONI section two are real artists; any corporation that hired an ex-section two guy (they stay at home, nice and safe and just censor/edit vid feeds, so I refuse to call them spooks) would instantly have the best ads in the whole damn UNSC.

Being in a speech and debate class gave me some good verbal skills, and after some serious convincing, my parents signed the papers and at seventeen and seven months of age, recruit Stoeger was on a pelican headed towards the UNSC Marine Corps training facility on Paris Island, South Carolina.

"Stoeger! You look like you just got the hell outta fifth goddamn grade! Did you lie about your age, and thus disgrace my beloved corps' high standards?" bellowed DI Foris.

"Sir, no sir!"

"Bullshit! On what day did you pop outta the sweet spot between your momma's legs?"

"Sir, seven, one-one, two-five-one-zero, sir"

"Goddamn it, no! In the UNSC phonetic alphabet, the number five is pronounced _fife_! You just got your whole unit killed because you were calling in artillery support, and the trigger happy artillery man couldn't understand the coordinates you gave him! Get on your face and give me five for every member of your platoon that you just got killed! Down on your face!"

"Sir, aye sir!"

As I started my punishment I began to think that perhaps all those brochures had been lying and that maybe being a marine wasn't all that glamorous.

"Remember!" Foris continued, addressing the whole platoon "A mistake here is a few push-ups, in combat, mistakes cost _lives! _Is that understood, maggots?

"Sir, yes sir!"

Over the next weeks of boot camp I decided that the brochure most definitely _had_ been lying to me, however there was just one thing about the marines that was true; there was camaraderie like you can't imagine, and besides, being in the military meant I could finally leave Earth and see all the places I had only seen in vids.

DI Foris was the classic drill instructor: his chest had the dimensions of a beer keg; he had cold dead eyes that looked like they were balls of ice that a vicious child had impaled with a piece of steel; Foris didn't so much as speak as he either growled or barked; when he shouted, his whole body seemed to jump; or maybe he was perfectly still, and it was I who jumped every time he shouted. That's actually a bit more plausible in hindsight.

It was there I learned that shooting in battle wasn't at all like hunting. When I was hunting I could always count on getting into a stable firing position; when I attempted to do the same thing during the first TTR training exercise, DI Foris had promptly knocked me out cold with a shot to the head. Later, when I was revived by the medic Foris had been there to in form me of my mistake.

"Combat's not a goddamn hunting trip, Stoeger! Let's hear your dead ass count to fifty! Down on your face!" Shouted Foris; from then on I always resolved to find cover.

When I finally got out of boot camp and went home for a week on leave, everyone I knew seemed in awe of me and my uniform; constantly offering me compliments and all.

For the next few months I was stationed at Fort Koris, a base on the northwestern part of Kansas; named after a general in the Rainforest Wars. When my birthday rolled around I asked for and received four days of leave, and drove on home in a rental car.

After the party was over, I went on a walk with my mom, who asked me about my plans for the future.

"So, my son what are you going to do about your future? Will you try to become an officer? Or join a special unit? And what of you and Melissa? Will you two get married?"

"I really don't know right now, mom."

"Remember what your father used to say: if you're going to do something, go big. You're a marine now, and a man. So be a big marine, and be a big man."

Those words rang in my ear when I saw the flyer announcing the beginning of ODST selection in 2 weeks. I decided to tryout after some thought and reported to the pelican that would take me and the other recruits to the first phase of selection.

At the time I expected a longer repeat of boot camp. Boy was I wrong; I saw why the old ODST veteran who ran my mom's favorite coffee shop called the selection process _rejection_. He also gave me some tips on surviving selection.

"Make sure as hell you don't lag behind anywhere, but don't be too outstanding, the directing staff just _love_ to send the guy in first place to the back to _help_ the rear of the group. Anyways, the trick isn't physical strength, it's a mental game. You're a tough kid Basil; I think you'll make it as long as you keep your head on straight.

"Thank you, staff sergeant."

"I'm not a staff sergeant anymore, Basil, and don't thank me, just don't die."

Turns out, that was easier said than done.


	3. Selection 1

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT Make ANY profit from this! Halo belongs to Bungie. If some thing belongs to anyone else I will say so.**

Halo-The War-Chapter 3

I was feeling quite cold. It had started an hour and a half ago; the heater on our pelican had been shut off so that all the air we got was the same temperature as the air outside. The air still had some heat from the air scrubber and compressor so we didn't freeze but still, it had gotten _cold_.

Over the last week selection had been a fairly non-challenging process; which meant that soon we would _really_ get it. When we had first arrived at the 340th ODST Training Unit in Korea, we had been met by the Directing Staff for selection. They were all at least three time combat veterans and affected the air of grungy veteran special forces troops who assumed we had nothing to offer, and that our failure had absolutely no impact on their lives. This wasn't going to be like boot camp, where we weren't allowed to quit, where the DI had incentives to make us pass.

As we got into formation for the dress uniform inspection we got to meet our worst nightmares for the next months; the Directing Staff. We all stood at attention as a tall woman with black hair and silvery blue eyes came forward and spoke in an Irish accent.

"Welcome to selection, recruits! My name is Staff Sergeant Briana Byrne, but you will refer to me as either "staff" or ma'am. The ladies and gentlemen behind me are the Directing Staff, you will also refer to them as "staff," sir, or ma'am, depending on their gender." As she spoke, I thought that this woman was needed at the front; she could probably force most enemy forces to surrender just by fixing her steely gaze on them.

"You are all here," she continued, "because you think you're good enough to be helljumpers; well let me just say that you probably won't make the cut; we have a ninety-three percent failure rate, there are two hundred of you here and that means only fourteen of you will pass selection, so tell me gobshites, will _you_ quit?

"No Staff!" we all roared.

"Well then, _prove_ _it! _There is a table three klicks north of your current position, there you will find your gear and a map detailing the position of the Special Forces briefing, where you will find out just what the hell you've signed up for. Anyone who does not make it by the deadline automatically fails!" We all waited for Byrne to tell us how long we had but all she said was:

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Get Moving!"

We all hauled ass to the north; none of us had a compass but I knew how to find north from hunter-safety and boot camp. The sun was just rising so I knew which way east was, and thus north. Seeing us racing to an objective with an unknown time limit in our dress blues is a comical sight now, but to me it was a panic.

When we got to the table we found a huge pile of gear spilled out in front of us with our names embroidered on tags on the gear that was supposed to be ours. The combined weight of everything looked to be about fifty-five or so kilos of weight. We found out later at the briefing that all the gear, including helmets with the HUD disabled would be with us for the rest of selection and would be weighed at the end of every objective. We also were assigned weapons with TTR or Tactical Training Rounds. One lethal hit and we were out. The briefing was five klicks from the gear, and wouldn't you know it seven people didn't make it on time.

At the briefing we all learned what ODST's _really_ did, it wasn't what the movies showed at all… it was dirty fighting; it was dropping into hot DZ's against enemies outnumbering us ten to one; it was going on an all night patrol and building an observation post that you would stay in for weeks, waiting to snipe an enemy commander; it was giving the UNSC the next two decades of your life for thankless, morally questionable missions with piss poor survival odds. Perfect. I had always wanted to make a difference in the world, but I hated attention. In high school athletics I was good enough to be first place much of the time but I always stopped short of first place except for the time I was trying to impress Melissa. For me, too much attention was annoying as well as unnecessary. I liked anonymity; it was a kind of freedom to me.

The next week was not all that challenging; just tests and marches… this worried me, selection was supposed to make you wish you were dead, now it was just a re-iteration of boot camp.

When the pelican doors opened, a blast of cold air hit me like a baseball bat, also the air got instantly thinner and breathing got harder. As we stepped out, we found we were on a mountain range covered with snow; Staff Sergeant Byrne was there waiting for us, next to her was a man who looked remarkably similar to her, he looked older though, I guessed that he was her brother. _Great, now there's _two_ of them_ I thought. Byrne came and addressed us.

"Welcome to the cold weather section of selection, recruits! You are now standing on the Himalaya Mountain range, the tallest and most magnificent mountain range on earth, here there is no life apart from yourselves, the directing staff, and myself. These mountains are littered with the dead bodies of many dumbass climbers, so I suggest being careful. Now, as you may have noticed, we have a new arrival to the directing staff" she gestured to the man next to her, "This is my brother, Master Sergeant Nolan Byrne, he has had more combat experience than even myself, and he also outranks me, so you will obey his orders as you do mine" she paused "He is _not_ however smarter than me, so I'm still in charge!" We all laughed, if Byrne made a joke then we all made a point to laugh as much as possible, it meant pain and suffering was about to come. "Enjoy that now gobshites, you won't be laughing for the next three weeks"

We got paired into squads of four, for the rest of selection we would stay together and complete objectives both against an enemy force as well as other squads. But now, I was just trying not to faint from lack of oxygen. It was then that I sincerely wished I didn't think the first week was easy. Ah regrets.

**A/N: I was rereading Contact Harvest after reading The Ametuers "From Harvest to the Ark" and decided Byrne was so badass he needed a sister. As always please review, thanks for reading.**


End file.
